


The 'We're Not Friends' Saga

by sarashelly



Category: Miss Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-18 23:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14862369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarashelly/pseuds/sarashelly
Summary: Somewhere along the line “she’s not my friend” had taken on a new meaning.





	1. Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> (takes place between episodes 6 and 7)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock comes to a slow realization...

Somewhere along the line “she’s not my friend” had taken on a new meaning.

Sherlock took pride in the fact that she did not need other people. Of course there were people in her life who she did not mind being around. People who served a purpose.

From the moment she had first laid her eyes on Wato, Sherlock had had the feeling that there was something about this woman. Something a little bit more interesting than other people, something a little bit more radiant. She had not been quite able to put her finger on the why, which had only made her all the more curious. Perhaps it was the kind of gentle fury with which Wato seemed to be plowing through the world. She had just experienced loss, and no doubt had seen terrible things during her time in Syria, and yet she was not wallowing in grief. Instead, the trait that most shone through in Wato’s early interactions with Sherlock was sheer determination. There was something captivating about that.

Besides, for some reason, it was just so much _fun_ to mess with Wato. Her reactions were a delightful distraction.

For these reasons, Sherlock had felt that it was not perhaps all that bad to have Wato live in the same house and tag along on cases. She had figured this was why people kept pets. Their presence was oddly soothing and entertaining. Wato was not a friend. Just someone Sherlock had a reason to keep around.

The first time Sherlock had been forced to re-asses her feelings about Wato, had been with the encounter with the Hemingway guy. It wasn’t about that guy, as such. Sherlock could see his fakeness miles away, so even Wato, no matter how dense she was about people, would have caught on soon. But what had thrown Sherlock for a loop had been her own reaction at Wato’s reaction. For the first time she had realized that she did not want Wato to be upset at her, or angry at her. And that she did not want Wato to _not_ be by her side. No matter how much people grew attached to their pets, it was still too much of a stretch of logic to claim that was all it was. And Sherlock could not tolerate stretching logic.

In a twisted way, it was almost a relief that the situation with the Shiina sisters had reached a critical danger point before Sherlock had time to process her new revelation. Wato was returned to her safe and sound, and afterwards it was easy to think that whatever confusing feelings Sherlock might have been developing, now was not the time to dwell on that.

However, from there on, it had all just gradually gotten worse. It was as if day after day, Wato was shining more brightly, becoming more vivid, growing harder to not notice. She was slowly creeping into her soul in ways Sherlock had not thought possible. She was unhappy when Wato was not around. She was unhappy when Wato was not happy.

And then that Moriya guy was sitting there in _her_ house, looking at Wato like that, and Sherlock felt an urge to ram his face on the table.

But the problem was, that it wasn’t just that she wanted Wato to be around. She wanted Wato to _want_ to be around. She wanted Wato to choose, entirely of her own volition, to be with her rather than anyone else.

Suddenly it was different kind of irritating when people said Wato was her friend. She hoped someone would figure it out. She hoped someone would say it out loud. So she would not have to.

_“You’re in love with her.”_


	2. Wato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wato assesses her feelings for Sherlock.

Wato was quite sure that Moriya was an attractive man. She liked to think she was the kind of person who did not care too much about physical appearances, but even so, it was always a bonus, wasn’t it? One check-mark on the list of good qualities in a prospective partner. He was also… trustworthy? Probably. Intelligent? Yes, quite. Could understand what she had been through? Very likely. And furthermore, he seemed to actually be interested in her.

But why was it that her heart did not seem to be in it? He was pleasant company, but her heart was not jumping to her throat when he looked at her. She felt no excitement. She could not quite remember how long it had been since she had last been in love. Maybe as you grew older these things just stopped happening. Maybe that was why people got married early.

Wato’s thoughts were interrupted by Sherlock walking into the room, her eyes focused on a book she was carrying. She would have walked straight over Wato’s toes, had Wato not already expected that and moved her feet at the last moment. Wato glared at Sherlock. Here, on the other hand, was someone who brought a bit too much excitement. How many times this week had they been in some kind of danger?

Sherlock sat down on the couch, immersed in her book, a slight frown on her face. Wato leaned her chin on her palm. She always thought that Sherlock was at her prettiest when she was distracted like that. There was a kind of softness to her features that was rarely seen otherwise. And maybe it was in part that particular dress, too. It was really quite unfair, the way Sherlock could pull off long, high collared dresses like that, looking at the same time so elegant and kind of… sensual. A soft sigh escaped Wato’s lips. Sherlock looked up.

Wato felt her face flush.

“What have you done this time?” Sherlock asked turning her eyes back to her book, an amused smirk on her lips. “You look like a thief caught holding the jewelry.”

“Nothing!” Wato said. “I have to go… somewhere.” She hurried out of the room.

Wato closed the door behind her and leaned on the wall, her heart beating furiously in her chest. Why did that woman always manage to trip her off balance, without even  _doing_  anything? What did she feel guilty about, anyway? She had not brought the wrong kind of tea this time, or used the wrong temperature water, or opened the windows at the wrong angle… Was there something in the rules about not being allowed to find her living companion attractive?

 _Hold up._  Wato reeled back her unruly thoughts.

Sherlock? Attractive? Yes, Wato had to admit, annoyingly so. Trustworthy? It was maybe kind of insane but Wato was certain she could trust her life in Sherlock’s hands. In fact, she had already done so before, hadn’t she? Intelligent? Off the charts, obviously. Could she understand what Wato had been through? And did she care about Wato?

Wato turned and opened the door slightly, peeking back into the room. Sherlock was now hugging the book to her chest, staring out of the window. She was a difficult person to read, and yet… she always seemed to know what was going on with Wato. Sometimes her efforts to fix things were a bit clumsy, but in her way, Sherlock was definitely looking after her. Maybe with a great deal of patience, one day she might actually open up. With another sigh Wato turned her back to the room again. Her thoughts were really getting weird these days. Ever since she had come to live here, nothing made sense. She raised her hand to her heart which still had not quite calmed down.  _This_  was the excitement she had been expecting…

“Wato?” Mrs. Hatano said, walking down the hallway. “What are you doing out here?”

“I may be falling in love.”

“What did you say?” Mrs. Hatano asked, chuckling.

Wato looked up, bewildered. What on earth _had_ she just said?

“Counselling!” Wato said hastily. “I have to, uh, go to.”

“Your appointment isn’t for another two hours,” Sherlock said, pulling the door open behind Wato.

Wato froze. How much had Sherlock heard?

“Before that,” Sherlock said, “you have time to come with me.”

“Some case again?” Wato asked, trying to calm herself down. “Will there be severed body parts this time?”

“No case,” Sherlock said. “Just lunch.”


	3. Mrs. Hatano Meddles

After Wato had come to live at 221b, life in the house had gotten a great deal more lively. Not that Mrs. Hatano could say living with Sherlock had ever been quiet or dull, but Wato’s presence brought noise and atmosphere that somehow made the place feel much more like a home. It was also a relief to know that when Sherlock now went running off after all sorts of weird and dangerous cases, she at least had a friend by her side.

A friend she stubbornly denied having.

And in fact, it did not take long for Mrs. Hatano to realize that it was not _friendship_ that was brewing between the two.

In the beginning it was just cute, how Sherlock was showing entirely new sides of herself when she was interacting with Wato, how the air between them seemed to get charged when they argued, and how riled up they managed to make each other. But as weeks passed, the two seemed to at the same time be growing closer and drifting further apart, and Mrs. Hatano was starting to lose her patience.

She had expected Sherlock to not know how to express her own feelings without someone holding her hand through it, but had hoped Wato to be better at it. Sadly, it seemed the girl was riddled with a severe lack of confidence.

* * *

 

One morning Wato stomped to the kitchen after Sherlock had been prickly about something again, and started to wash the dishes with such fury Mrs. Hatano was worried she might scrub the plates out of existence.

“Wato,” she said soothingly. “I know Sherlock is not an easy person to deal with. But she really does like you quite a bit.”

“Odd how I’m not getting that impression,” Wato said with a strained smile.

“She is just not good at expressing herself. She really does rely on you a lot. In the past she was always working on cases alone, but now she wants to wait for you before even getting started.”

“Sometimes I think so, too,” Wato said, “but then the next moment she is acting like she can’t stand having me around.” She stared at the plate in her hands for a moment.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “We’re just… we’re just living in the same space temporarily. That’s all. It’s not important.”

“Do you really feel that way?” Mrs. Hatano asked. Wato smiled.

“I’m silly and get easily attached to people. I’ll get over it.”

* * *

 

“Wato won’t be coming home for dinner,” Mrs. Hatano told Sherlock that evening. “She’s going to some art exhibition with that photographer.”

There was a sound of something breaking followed by a string of colourful curse words in Sherlock’s chemistry corner.

“Why did you arrange for the two of them to meet again if you’re this unhappy about it?” Mrs. Hatano asked.

“Who’s unhappy?” Sherlock asked in a voice that could not possibly be interpreted as anything but unhappy.

“Could it be you did not even realise how you would feel about it?” Mrs. Hatano asked.

Sherlock straightened up and brushed some dust off of her clothes. Holding her head high, with an impassive expression on her face, she turned to Mrs. Hatano.

“Please speak words that make some sense,” Sherlock said.

“ _Sherlock_.”

“You’re disturbing the distiller. Please don’t talk so much.”

* * *

 

The next day as Mrs. Hatano returned from a coffee date with some of her friends, Wato was laying on the couch reading a manga, while Sherlock sat at her computer chair with a book on her lap. She was turning the pages of the book in a steady rhythm but her eyes were watching Wato who was chuckling at the manga. They were like a pair of newlyweds who did not even know they were married. Mrs. Hatano sighed. Wato looked up.

“Is something wrong, Mrs. Hatano?”

“Well, as it happens...” Mrs Hatano said. She sat down on a chair opposite of Wato. “Lately I’ve been worried about these two friends of mine. They both have a lot of affection for each other, but they just can’t get around to admitting it. What do you think I should do, Sherlock?”

Sherlock was surprised at the question directed at her.

“Have either of them committed murder? I am a criminal psychologist, not a couples’ counselor!”

Mrs. Hatano shook her head.

“Aren’t they adults?” Sherlock said. “Surely they can work it out themselves.”

“That does not seem to be the case,” Mrs. Hatano said. “Wato, what do you think?”

“Making the other person jealous worked for these two,” Wato said waving her manga. Sherlock scoffed.

“Hmm,” Mrs Hatano said, “there seems to be quite a bit of jealousy in the air already.”

“Ah, don’t they do this in the movies all the time,” Wato said. “Get them stuck on a remote cabin on a mountain in a snowstorm, or something like that?”

“That could also lead to a murder,” Sherlock said.

“Running from an axe murderer could work too,” Wato said cheerfully. “I’m sure Sherlock can play that part beautifully if you need help.” She deflected the pillow Sherlock threw at her.

“I think for such stubborn cases it really is going to take quite a lot,” Mrs. Hatano said.

“If there’s anything we, uh, I can do to help, just ask,” Wato said.

Mrs. Hatano smiled. _Send them on a mountain._ Well, it would be difficult to summon a snowstorm at will, but perhaps she could figure out something.


	4. We're not... on a romantic vacation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you spot typos etc. do let me know. I almost literally fell asleep proof-reading.

It was three days later and Wato stared at the two train tickets in her hand.

“A haunted amusement park?” she repeated. She looked at Mrs. Hatano with a slight frown.

“It’s of course all set up. The haunting, I mean,” Mrs. Hatano said. “My friend came up with the idea. The place runs as a normal amusement park during the day, and at nighttime they arrange haunted tours. It’s very popular. But lately, in addition to the staged haunting, there have been other strange things happening. My friend is starting to think it’s real ghosts. Maybe you two could go take a look?”

In truth, Mrs. Hatano’s friend was not the sort of person who believed in real ghosts, but Mrs. Hatano figured it did not hurt to fan the flames a little.

“I can tell without even going there,” Sherlock said, as she walked down the stairs. “No, it’s not real ghosts, as they do not exist!”

“Even if that’s true, there’s definitely something weird going on,” Mrs. Hatano said. “This is a dear friend of mine, Sherlock, it needs to be taken care of. I know I can count on you.” She took one of the tickets from Wato’s hand and handed it over to Sherlock.

“The return ticket is for two days later,” Sherlock said, narrowing her eyes.

“Oh, the hotel is quite lovely,” Mrs. Hatano said, smiling. “There’s a lake and all. It’s good for you to get away from the town for a while.”

“No, it isn’t,” Sherlock said. Mrs. Hatano gave her a stern look.

“Haunted…” Wato said, staring at the ticket. Sherlock chuckled and stashed her ticket back into Wato’s hands.

“What’s there to worry? Don’t your vampire friends know a good exorcist?”

“I think it’s you who needs to be exorcised,” Wato muttered as she headed to her room to pack her bag.

“I heard that!”

 

Trains always made Wato drowsy, and this time was no exception. For a while she watched Sherlock fidget with a kids’ juice carton she had in some mysterious way come in possession of, but soon she felt her eyelids grow too heavy to remain open. She closed her eyes and listened to the steady hum of the train moving on its tracks, and wondered what the hotel was going to be like. There was a lake, Mrs. Hatano had said, there might be waterfowl… birds… flying in formation like something… something she had seen somewhere…

There was a loud crash and Wato’s world turned to hell. Her ears were ringing, she did not know where she was. She was sure she could hear screams, but she could not breathe. Something had exploded, people were dying…

“It's not real. Breathe.”

The voice came soft and strong through the echoes of screams.

“You’re in a train. Someone dropped their briefcase. That’s all.”

Wato trembled and struggled to take breaths.

“Just breathe.”

_Breathe, breathe…_

Slowly the daylight re-appeared. The screams faded away. Taking deep, laborious breaths Wato watched the landscape outside rush past. Wato looked around; Sherlock was sitting beside her with her eyes closed, leaning her head on her hand. The other hand was resting on Wato’s wrist. Wato turned her head further and found that Sherlock’s coat was draped over her own shoulders.

“You can sleep,” Sherlock said without opening her eyes. “I’m here.”

Wato leaned her head back and closed her eyes. She focused all her thoughts on the warmth of Sherlock’s hand and fell into a quiet, dreamless sleep.

 

Wato stood alone in front of the train station with their luggage at her feet. Her head felt heavy. The buzz of the train station made her both more certain she was back in reality and more nervous about being alone. For some reason her flashbacks seemed to be getting more and more common lately. Although the weather was warm, she pulled Sherlock’s coat more tightly around herself.

Fortunately the owner of the coat was not gone for long. Sherlock walked to Wato, and handed a large cardboard mug to her. The mug felt warm in Wato’s hands and a strong chocolatey smell drifted up through the lid.

“A taxi will be here soon,” Sherlock said.

Wato looked from the mug to Sherlock and back to the mug. She wondered if she would ruin the moment by saying something. The scent and warmth of the hot chocolate mixed with those of Sherlock’s coat, enveloping her into a bubble of safety.

“Thank you,” she muttered quietly into the mug. If Sherlock heard it, she said nothing.

 

The hotel was, as Mrs. Hatano had described, quite lovely. The building was a fusion of Western architecture with touches of classic Japanese features, and looked quiet and tranquil surrounded by the lush greenery. As they walked along the driveway, Wato pointed at the glimmer of blue water behind the building.

“Look, the lake!”

“It’s just water,” Sherlock said. “We have water in Tokyo.”

Wato sighed.

“It’s not the water,” Wato said. “But everything that surrounds it. You have to leave cities behind to find beauty like this.”

“You just haven’t seen the right places. I’ll take you to Meguro River for hanami next spring.”

After a moment Sherlock stopped and turned to look back, as she realized Wato had stopped following her. Wato stood on the driveway watching her.

“Is that a promise?” Wato asked.

“What?”

Wato turned her eyes down. She squeezed the handle of her bag tightly.

“Can I expect that in the spring we will still be doing all this?” She took a deep breath. “Together?”

“What’s with that question?” Sherlock said and turned away. “I just—”

“Never mind, then.”

Wato walked past Sherlock to the hotel foyer. Sherlock trailed after her. _Yes_ , she thought. _Next spring, the spring after that and all the ones after that._ That shouldn’t have been so hard to say.

 

Wato did not wait for Sherlock to join her at the reception desk, and Sherlock did not bother going over. Instead, she looked at the paintings in the foyer while Wato got their room keys. A woman in a blue dress approached her.

“You’ve only just arrived?” the woman asked, smiling charmingly. Curious about the unexpected greeting, Sherlock took in details about the woman. Wato had finished getting the keys and hurried to her side. She nudged Sherlock.

“You’re not about to say something rude again, right?” Wato said under her breath.

“I see you are here with a friend,” the woman said.

“We’re not friends,” Sherlock said, miffed at Wato’s scolding.

“Ah, your partner, forgive me for assuming.”

Sherlock tilted her head. _Partner?_

“Perhaps we will talk again later.” The woman walked away. Wato looked after her with uncharacteristically sullen expression.

“Should I have given you two some space?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“What for?” Sherlock asked. It seemed today she was surrounded by illogical people. Wato’s expression softened.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Wato asked. She smiled. “That’s good, then. Let’s go see our room.”

Sherlock was about to comment on Wato’s odd behavior but then got caught up in the more recent thing she had said.

“ _Our?_ You mean a singular room?”

Wato read the room number from the key and looked around to see where they should go.

“Sherlock, we live together. Why would we get separate rooms?”

“We live in separate rooms.”

“Well, now we don’t. Don’t be silly. This place is expensive!”

 

It turned out that the singular room also had a singular bed. For a moment they both stood in silence staring at it. Sherlock looked at Wato.

“Don’t look at me!” Wato said. “Mrs. Hatano was the one who reserved the room.” Wato set her bag down to the floor. “Are you going to complain about this? It’s wide. I don’t roll around or hog blankets.”

Sherlock shrugged and looked away.

“It’s facing the wrong way. And it looks too soft,” she said.

“If you’re unhappy, go get your own room. I’m staying.”

Wato walked to the window and pulled the curtains aside.

“Look at the view! Your mind can really rest with a view this peaceful.”

Sherlock walked to her side. She opened her mouth, but Wato interrupted her before she even managed to say one word.

“Please don’t start to wonder about how many people have drowned in the lake.”

Sherlock closed her mouth. She chewed on the corner of her lip.

“Thank you for the effort, at least,” Wato said, laughing.

 

Having settled into their singular room with a singular bed, and Sherlock not insisting on making any changes to their sleeping arrangements, they went to a nearby cafe to meet Mrs. Hatano’s friend, Miss Shiraki. After brief introductions they ordered drinks and sat down to hear her story.

“At first the odd incidents were just little things, like my employees seeing someone move behind the sets when there should have been no one there,” Miss Shiraki said. “The first big incident happened last week. One of my ghosts almost got his ear cut off. My first priority was to get him to the ER, of course, and by the time I had the sense to send someone to take a look at the place where the injury happened, there was nothing there. Even the blood had been cleaned off. Since then, there have been two smaller injuries, but fortunately nothing that a band-aid couldn’t fix. Still, we could find no traces of how the injuries even happened. The workers are getting scared, a couple have already quit because the stress is too much.”

“Have you contacted the police?” Wato asked.

“After the first injury I reported it, of course, but as there was no evidence that there was foul play involved, they just chalked it off as an accident. After the other injuries, it was perhaps irresponsible of me, but I did not report them. I don’t want the reputation of the park to be affected, when there isn’t even anything solid I can tell the police.”

“Might someone have a grudge against you?” Sherlock asked.

“No one I can think of.”

“We will need to investigate the park. During the tour tonight will do,” Sherlock said.

“You will have to come tomorrow. The place is closed down for maintenance tonight.” Miss Shiraki smiled. “I guess you arrived a day too early in vain. I’m sorry, I must have forgotten to mention it to Kimie.”

Sherlock poked the edges of her teacup with a spoon. That was most certainly a lie. When Wato excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, Sherlock leaned over the table towards Miss Shiraki.

“There was a woman at the hotel,” Sherlock said. “About 173cm. Shoulder-length hair. Japanese descent, but has spent a considerable amount of time in Germany. I believe she works for you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“She is a dancer, but has a steady job. There aren’t many opportunities for that in a town like this.”

Miss Shiraki laughed and meticulously set her cup down on the table.

“I see Kimie wasn’t exaggerating when she bragged about you. Well, what did Miss Tachibana think of Azusa?” She smiled brightly. Sherlock drew slowly back in her chair.

“Don’t worry, I will make sure Miss Tachibana won’t find out,” Miss Shiraki said.

“Why would that matter?”

“I think you know, considering you waited for her to leave before bringing it up.”

Sherlock turned her teacup around in her hands. She did not particularly appreciate getting trapped, even if it was by Mrs. Hatano.

“Rest assured the incidents at the park are real, though,” Miss Shiraki said. “We did not make that up. I’m sure you would have known that right away at any case. It was just a happy coincidence that Kimie and I had an opportunity to help each other like this.”

She leaned closer and placed her hand on Sherlock’s arm.

“For all the effort Kimie has seen for your sake, I hope you don’t waste it.”

Wato returned, and Sherlock almost nervously flipped her cup over, earning a disapproving glance from Wato. Miss Shiraki got up from her chair.

“I believe we understand each other now, so I must return to work. If you’d like to take a look at the park during the day, just tell the person at the gate who you are, and you will get free entry. Let me know when you have found out something.”

Wato politely bid her goodbye.

“She seems nice. _Leave that alone._ ”

Sherlock set down the salt shaker she had started to pry open and pushed her hands into her pockets. She felt even more restless than usual. She managed to sit still for full 20 seconds.

“You want to go to the park, right?” she said, almost jumping up. “Let’s go to the park.”

“Really?” Wato asked, her face brightening up. “I didn’t think you’d care for such things.”

“It’s good to know the place in advance,” Sherlock said. “And at least there are people there.”

“You’re hoping to find some nice crime to kill time with, right?” Wato asked.

 _That, at least, would be something familiar_ , Sherlock thought.

 

In the end Wato did not seem to find the amusement park as fun as she had expected. She watched all the stomach-turning rides with a slight frown.

“I guess I didn’t realize getting scared isn’t as exciting as it used to be when we were kids,” she said. She fidgeted with the bonfim bracelet on her wrist. A memento from the war zone. Sherlock ceased mentally cataloging the occupations of the people who passed them. She knew this was one of those moments when she should have been able to say something comforting, but Wato was the one who knew the right words for such situations. Sherlock looked around at the various food stalls, but they had already eaten everything that was possible to eat at once without getting horribly sick.

“Oh, there’s a game arcade,” Wato said. “Let’s go there. You’ll like that. There’ll be lots of buttons for you to press.”

 

Sherlock navigated through the loud and crowded part of the arcade to the quieter and cozier part. She said nothing about the fact that Wato held on to the hem of her coat to keep up.

“I guess it’s too loud for you,” Wato said.

“Right.” Sherlock glanced over her shoulder at the rows of war games behind them. Well, whatever excuse kept Wato in her comfort zone was fine.

“Oh, a ring tossing game,” Wato said and dragged Sherlock after her. “I haven’t played these in ages.”

The boy who was managing the game seemed to be half asleep. He did not even look up as he handed Wato the rings.

“If you’re a couple, for 40 points you get to pick a prize of your choice from the top row. Are you a couple?”

“Yes,” Wato said without even blinking.

“Uh,” Sherlock managed to say.

“Come on,” Wato whispered to her, grinning, “it’s a top row prize. Don’t get mad.”

Mad was far from what Sherlock was feeling, though she could not quite name _what_ she was feeling.

“If you win the cat statue on the left, I forgive you,” she said.

 

Sherlock looked around at the other games while Wato proceeded to toss the rings. After a while she heard Wato’s excited shout.

“Ha! I got it!”

Wato run to Sherlock and held up a green snake plushie.

“That’s not what I told you to get,” Sherlock said.

“Oops,” Wato said and smiled innocently. She draped the snake around Sherlock’s neck. “See? It’s perfect for you.”

Sherlock looked at the snake.

“Snakes do have a great sense of smell,” she said.

“They’re venomous,” Wato said.

“Believed to be able to transcend even death.”

“And have a forked tongue.”

“Often seen as symbols of wisdom and justice.

Wato sighed. She patted the snake plushie’s head.

“It’s cute, though.”

_…and symbols of healing, and eternity, and desire…_

“I suppose it will do,” Sherlock said.

 

That night Sherlock lay on her half of the bed with the blanket drawn over her ears. The snake plushie stared at her accusingly from the windowsill.

“Hey,” she said.

“What? Aren’t you asleep yet?” Wato replied drowsily.

“I’ll take you to the hanami in the spring. Definitely.”

It was quiet for a moment.

“Okay.”

Wato's reply was muffled by the pillow, but even so Sherlock could tell she was smiling.

 

When Sherlock woke up in the morning, Wato was gone. She sat up feeling slightly disoriented. She did not know how she had slept so deeply in an unfamiliar place, and even sharing a bed with someone. She got dressed and sat down in a chair by the window just as Wato entered the room. Wato brought along a tray with a coffee pot and a cup.

Sherlock eyed the coffee suspiciously as Wato poured some for her. How good could coffee in a hotel possibly be? She tasted the coffee cautiously. Her eyes widened in surprise.

“ _You_ made this?”

Wato nodded and smiled, looking very proud of herself.

“I talked the kitchen staff into letting me do it. You would have complained all day otherwise.”

Sherlock sunk deeper into her chair and sipped the coffee.

“The weather is nice, so I’m going for a walk along the lake,” Wato said. “Since you think it’s just water, I won’t ask you to come. Enjoy your coffee.”

She was gone before Sherlock managed to say a word. The plushie snake sneered at her. Sherlock punched it in the nose.

 

Thirty minutes later Wato sat down on a bench by the lake. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back to feel the warmth of the sun on her face. She wasn’t surprised when she felt someone sit down by her side.

“Fine,” Sherlock said. “I suppose as far as water goes, this isn’t half bad.”

For a while they sat in silence.

“Tell me,” Wato said eventually, “why do you prefer the city to a place like this?”

Sherlock thought for a moment before replying.

“Where you see peace and tranquility, I see isolation and secrecy. Space to hide your crimes.”

“Surely there’s more crime in the city than a place like this?”

“Perhaps. But the city also keeps itself in check. Scream for help in the city and someone is likely to hear. Scream in the woods, and you could scream forever.”

Wato shuddered.

“Sorry,” Sherlock said, “it’s not a topic that goes well with your tranquil lake view.”

“Thank you,” Wato said.

“What for?”

“I think I understand you a little bit more.”

“Is that something to be thankful about?” Sherlock kicked at the grass under her feet.

Wato shook her head, sighing.

“You know hedgehogs?” Wato said.

“Hedgehogs?”

“How they roll up into balls of spikes when they feel vulnerable? I should have gotten you a hedgehog instead of a snake.”

“Well, you’re not taking away my snake!”

Wato took Sherlock’s hand into hers and examined the back of her hand closely.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked.

“Checking if you’re growing scales.”

Sherlock pulled her hand away.

“Stop acting cute. I’m leaving!”

She jumped up. Wato followed her, laughing.

“Where are you going? You haven’t seen the gazebo yet.”

 

Returning from the lake to the front of the hotel, they ran again into Miss Shiraki’s dancer, Azusa.

“Oh, hello again,” she said with a sly smile. Wato greeted her unenthusiastically.

“She works for Miss Shiraki,” Sherlock said. “That’s why she’s here. Right?”

Azusa did not need more hints. She laughed.

“Indeed. I left an envelope containing the contact details for our staff at the reception for you, so you can ask them what you need to know. Miss Tachibana, is it? I’m sorry I did not get to greet you properly yesterday.”

She clasped Wato’s hand with both of hers.

“You really are as sweet as I have heard,” she said. She glanced at Sherlock’s irritated expression and smiled.

“Well, I must be off. It was nice to meet you. _Both_ of you.”

Wato looked after her, smiling.

“What a nice girl,” she said.

“Oh, now she’s nice,” Sherlock said under her breath.

“She is a bit odd, though, don’t you think?” Wato asked. “Why does she act so mysterious? Besides, couldn’t she have sent the contact details via email? Why deliver it personally?”

“People in that line of work are always a bit odd,” Sherlock said. She felt she had done as much as she could to clear up the situation without making things more awkward.

“I guess.”

 

They spent the day mostly by meeting up with Miss Shiraki’s staff to get as much information as they could. In the afternoon while Sherlock stayed at the hotel to look over the notes Wato had made about everything they had been told, Wato went shopping on her own. When Wato returned to their hotel room, Sherlock was laying on the bed with the snake plushie wrapped around her neck, her notes scattered around her, holding up blueprints of the park.

“Since people have been getting injured at the park, I bought a first aid kit,” Wato said.

“And a charm to ward off evil spirits?” Sherlock asked without taking her eyes off of the blueprints.

“I didn’t…”

Sherlock smiled.

“The incense from the temple has a nice scent.”

“Fine, I did.”

Sherlock rolled around over her notes and spread the blueprints on the bed in front of her.

“Take a look at this,” she said. Wato sat down on the edge of the bed to look at the blueprints.

“All the spots where the incidents happened are on a circle around this building, the mirror maze. Most likely the culprit has been hiding in there.”

“Should we tell the workers to avoid this part tonight?”

Sherlock shook her head.

“The culprit seems to know the schedule of the tour very well. It could also be someone among the staff.”

“So what do we do?”

“We try to catch them before the tour gets there.”

Wato nodded thoughtfully. Sherlock glanced sideways at Wato.

“Are you… going to be okay with going there?” she asked.

“I’m not that much of a scaredy-cat!” Wato said, pouting.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Wato’s face grew serious. Without realizing it, she was fidgeting with her bonfim bracelet again.

“Oh,” she said. “I think so. I’ll try not to become a hindrance.”

Sherlock leaned her chin on her hands.

“You’re not,” she said quietly.

Wato’s eyes teared up. She quickly turned away.

“I’ll go get changed,” she said. “Do you think it will get cold at night?”

“Maybe,” Sherlock said. “Bring a warm coat.”

 

Sherlock and Wato arrived at the park half an hour before the tour was going to start. With the staff entrance keys they received from Miss Shiraki, they entered the park from the opposite end to the main entrance.

Wato held on to the sleeve of Sherlock’s coat with both of her hands.

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, trying to tug her sleeve free.

“Don’t you watch horror movies?” Wato said. “The moment you turn your back to your friend they disappear and suddenly you’re all alone! I’m not letting go off you!”

“Who was it that said they are not a scaredy-cat? I can’t walk like this!”

Wato let go off Sherlock’s sleeve reluctantly. She eyed their surroundings cautiously.

Sherlock sighed. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then hesitantly wrapped her fingers around Wato’s wrist.

“Will this do?” she asked.

Wato nodded.

“Now be quiet,” Sherlock said. “We don’t want the ghost to hear us, right?”

“You said there are no ghosts!”

 

They walked slowly the route towards the mirror maze. In contrast to the buzz of the daytime, the place now seemed eerily quiet. A white figure floated across the pathway ahead of them. Wato clung to Sherlock’s arm again.

“It’s just a puppet,” Sherlock said. “See the rope high up there?”

Wato looked up and nodded.

“And that?” Wato whispered after a few more steps.

“Smoke machine and a hologram projector.”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool.”

Wato relaxed as they continued further along, Sherlock explaining all the various staged hauntings to her. She was almost starting to enjoy herself as they approached the mirror maze.

Suddenly Sherlock’s grasp around her wrist tightened.

“Sto— aaargh!”

Sherlock staggered backward. Blood began to flow down her cheek.

“You’re bleeding!” Wato cried.

“I know! Don’t yell.”

Sherlock clutched the side of her head. Wato helped her sit down on the side of the pathway. She examined the wound on Sherlock’s temple.

“It’s not bad,” Wato said. She pressed her sleeve over the cut as she dug out the fist aid kit from her bag. “Head wounds always bleed a lot, so they seem worse than they are.” Her voice was trembling.

“Doctor,” Sherlock said, “are you trying to convince the patient or yourself?”

“That’s good,” Wato said, as she pressed a piece of gauze over the wound, “if your tongue remains sharp, you must be fine. Hold this.” She guided Sherlock’s hand to press the gauze to her temple, and took out an antiseptic spray from the kit.

“Wait,” Sherlock said. “Give me that.”

Holding the spray she climbed up to her feet and sprayed the antiseptic liquid across the pathway.

“Ha!”

Three thin threads drawn across the pathway glistened in the dark as the liquid clung to them.

“Ok, great, you found it,” Wato said. Her focus was still on Sherlock’s wound. “Now let’s go get you treated.”

“No, I’m fine,” Sherlock said. At the very moment, she had to hold on to Wato for support. “I’m… fine enough. We can’t just leave when we have the evidence right in front of us.”

“You can’t even stand!”

“You can! Help me down over there.”

Wato helped Sherlock sit down behind a booth by the side of the pathway. Sherlock took out a camera from her pocket.

“Let me treat your wounds first!” Wato said.

“It’s just a cut. It can wait. Go take photos of the threads,” Sherlock said. Her mouth a thin disapproving line, Wato did as she asked.

“Anything else?”

Sherlock looked at the threads.

“They’re dangerous. Cut them off. Be careful. And bring me a piece.”

Wato took scissors from the first aid kit and went to cut the threads. Sherlock held up the tiny length of the thread Wato had brought her and examined it with a frown. She shook her head and stashed it into her pocket.

“If we’re lucky, who ever set this up didn’t see us,” Sherlock said.

“And if we’re unlucky?” Wato asked.

“They’ll…” Sherlock looked up at Wato’s anxious face. “…have run away. Let’s just wait. Quietly.”

As they waited Wato cleaned and bandaged the cut on Sherlock’s temple properly. After a while they could hear the tour approaching. People arrived in groups of two or three, accompanied by shrieks and giggles as they reacted to the fake ghosts.

After a few groups had passed them, Wato saw a man lurking across the pathway.

“Look!”

“Get the camera,” Sherlock hissed. Not needing more instructions, Wato sneaked to take a photo of the man as he walked to the pathway to inspect the cut threads. At the click of the shutter the man looked up. Wato hid behind the booth.

“What do I do? I think he’s coming here.”

Sherlock rummaged through the first aid kit to find something that could work as a weapon. Unfortunately even the scissors were so blunt they were of no use. At the last moment she tossed the antiseptic spray to Wato, who sprayed it at the man’s face when he peeked around the corner of the booth.

“Help! A thief!” Wato shouted as she held on to the staggering man’s coat.

The group that had been approaching ran to them and helped apprehend the man. After a few moments some of the park’s staff arrived as well. Together they took the man to Miss Shiraki’s office to wait for the arrival of the police.

“I know this man,” Miss Shiraki said. “He works for a corporation that came to me with an offer to buy the park a few months ago. After I refused them time after time, I thought they had given up. I wouldn’t have imagined they would try something underhanded like this.”

“I suppose that’s all settled, then,” Wato said. She took the camera and the piece of thread from Sherlock and handed them over to Miss Shiraki. “You can handle the rest. We are going to a hospital.”

“I don’t need—” Sherlock started but fell silent as Wato turned to look at her.

“I’ll call you a taxi,” Miss Shiraki said.

 

Sherlock woke up in the hotel bed to bright sunlight on her face. She opened her eyes and found Wato curled up into a tiny ball by her side, holding her hand with both of hers. She brushed her free hand over the cut on her head. In the end it hadn’t needed much care at the hospital, but at least the hospital visit had helped calm Wato down. She turned to look at sleeping Wato. Apparently though, she had not gone to sleep free of worries. Sherlock poked at Wato’s forehead with her finger.

“Hey.”

“No mom,” Wato mumbled, “I don’t want to go to school.”

Sherlock laughed.

“You’re late from your exams! By about fifteen years.”

“What?!” Wato sat up. She opened her eyes and looked around.

“Oh.” She threw a pillow at Sherlock.

“I’ll get your coffee.”

“There’s no rush,” Sherlock said, hugging the pillow.

 

The taxi drew to a halt in front of 221b. Wato stretched her arms as she got out.

“Ah, I feel like we only just left. Wouldn’t it have been great to stay a few more days?”

“No,” Sherlock said.

“You’re lying. Admit it! We had fun!”

“I got injured!” Sherlock said and pointed at the band-aids at her temple.

“Oh, now it’s a big deal! How convenient.”

Sherlock laughed as Wato nudged her, but the laughter soon died away as she saw someone walk towards them.

“Yes, doctor,” Moriya said to the phone as he waved at Wato. “She’s here now. Yes, I’ll see you later.” He put his phone away.

“Wato,” he said, seeming to ignore Sherlock’s entire existence. “I know you only just got back, but can you come with me?”

“Now? I don’t—”

Moriya took Wato’s hand in his.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I have something important to show you. I want you to be the first person to see it.”

“Oh, I…” Wato looked at Sherlock.

Seeing Wato’s hesitation, Sherlock made the decision for her. She took Wato’s bag from her hands.

“Go on,” she said impassively and walked to the door leaving the two behind.

 

Sherlock closed the door behind her, and let the bags fall to the floor from her hands. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her.

“Sherlock?” Mrs. Hatano said emerging from her room. “I didn’t hear you arrive. Where is Wato? Is something wrong?”

Sherlock looked down at her feet. The plushie snake stared up at her from her bag.

“Nothing.” Even to her own ears her voice sounded hollow. “Nothing is wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * About that ending: I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry. But as I started writing this with the idea that it would lead to the start of episode 7, it had to go there.
> 
> * Hanami is the cherry blossom viewing.
> 
> * Google Meguro River to see the sight Sherlock wants to show to Wato.
> 
> * The conversation about crime in the countryside happens also between Holmes and Watson in ACD canon.


End file.
